Golfing Sort Of
by Kyoryto
Summary: Schwarz vs. Weiss in a golfing match! This is the same as the one I've had up, only I think I've got the formatting fixed. Enjoy.


"My team can beat yours any day of the week!"  
  
"All right, then! This Saturday! My team against yours!"  
  
"You're one!"  
  
As they walked away from each other, Persia and Mr. Takatori both had the same question on their minds: "Where the hell am I going to find a golf team?"  
  
"Gentlemen. I'm aware that I called you here on your day off. But, this has nothing to do with your being my bodyguards. This is for recreation. I want you to be my golf team in a match this Saturday against Persia's golf team. What do you say?"  
  
"No," Crawford's answer was short and simple.  
  
"Nuh-uh," Schuldich was shaking his head.  
  
"I don't think so," Nagi responded quietly.  
  
"Heh, heh. No," Farfarello snickered.  
  
"With that said..." Crawford spoke again as the quartet turned and headed for the door.  
  
"I'll double your salaries!" Mr. Takatori spoke the language of a desperate man.  
  
"Done!" the four men said in unison as they turned back around to face their new golf coach.  
  
"Hunters of the light. I have a new type of mission for you," Persia began to address the four Wei? members; who were listening intently. "I want you to be my golf team for a match this Saturday." He looked uneasily at the puzzled expressions before him.  
  
"I have a term paper due this Monday," Omi was the first to speak.  
  
"Persia, have you lost it? We're assassins," Ken spoke up next.  
  
"Besides, there's a major lack of chicks in the world of golf," Yoji chimed in.  
  
Aya's deadly glare spoke for him.  
  
"Did I mention the opposing team is being coached by Mr. Takatori?" the fact was Persia's ace.  
  
Aya's eyes went wide and the others quickly agreed after.  
  
Thursday  
  
Schuldich yawned and lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the glaring afternoon sun. "Takatori's our coach, so why isn't he coaching us?" he asked.  
  
"Because he has business elsewhere for now, and I'm the only one here who knows how to play golf," Crawford answered. "I've already gone over how to swing, so Schuldich and Farfarello, you practice while I work with Nagi on getting the ball somewhere."  
  
"Where should I stand?" Nagi asked his golfing mentor as the red-head and the psycho walked off.  
  
"Right there," Crawford answered. "Now the goal is to get the ball as far out as you can, while getting as close as you can to the flag we set up."  
  
The ball lifted from the ground and levitated to the flag, where it landed neatly at the base of the pole.  
  
"No, Nagi. Bring it back. You have to use the club."  
  
The ball floated back to it's original location.  
  
"Okay. Good, Nagi. Bend your knees a little. All right, swing back.....nice and easy. Turn with your hips....good. Now swing!"  
  
The club came down, pendulum style, and the ball went sailing.  
  
"Great Nagi! You did it!"  
  
Smash! The windshield of someone's car shattered into thousands of pieces, glittering like jewels in the sun.  
  
"Riiiight, Crawford," Schuldich drawled as he and Farfarello strolled back from where they had been practicing. "The employee parking lot is the perfect place to practice."  
  
"Wei?, as you know, Persia had other business to take care of today. As a result, I will be coaching you," Manx was all business as she met the assassins in a vacant field, dotted with a few set-up flags.  
  
"Where's Ken?" she asked, after a quick survey accounted for only three of the four hunters.  
  
"Here I am!" the cheerful brunet called as he ran out to his comrades. It didn't take long for him to trip, sending him sprawling in front of the others on the grass.  
  
"Sorry I'm late. I couldn't find my jersey," he said, still cheerful, as he stood up and brushed himself off.  
  
"Ken, this is golf. You can't wear a jersey. It's required that you wear a golf shirt," Manx informed the former soccer player.  
  
"Oh. Wish I'd known that," disappointment lined Ken's face.  
  
"No matter. We have to start practice. Place the ball on the ground and stand to one side with your toes pointed toward it. Good. Now grip the club one hand over the other with the head behind the ball. Relax a little, Aya. You're too stiff.  
  
"Aya's always stiff. And cold," Yoji teased.  
  
Aya growled and lifted his club, much in the way he did with his katana.  
  
"Shinei!" he shouted as he charged at Yoji.  
  
"Aaahh!" panic showed on Yoji's face as he started to run from the red-head.  
  
"Guys! Guys!" Omi managed to get in front of Aya. "This isn't the time nor the place. We have a match to practice for."  
  
"Right. Back to your places," Manx took control again.  
  
"Anything you say, ma'am," Yoji grinned as he returned to his golf ball. Manx was not amused.  
  
Friday  
  
"All right. Let's try it again."  
  
"Craaawford. We've been at it for hours," Schuldich protested.  
  
"Yeah. Besides, if this keeps up, there won't be any lawn left," Farfarello added, referring to the crater-sized holes.  
  
"And every time I swing, I hit a car!" Nagi cried.  
  
"I know. I know. But you three can stand here inefficiently complaining and suffer a humiliating defeat, or you can practice so you won't hit cars and dig up lawns tomorrow when it counts."  
  
"Well if we have a choice..." Schuldich said as he and the other two Schwarz memebers started walking away.  
  
"No! No! Come back here!" Crawford called, hurrying after them.  
  
"Who do you think our opponents will be?" Omi asked as he executed a perfect swing, landing the ball reasonably close to the flag.  
  
"I have no idea. What do you think, Aya?" Ken responded as he swung his club, sending more dirt than ball into the air.  
  
"Whoever they are, I'll destroy them," Aya said as his swing missed the ball and sent a thick chunk of earth flying.  
  
"Ha! The only thing you'll destroy is the course's lawn!" Yoji hooted. Distracted by his laughter, he swung too hard, stumbled, and fell on the ground.  
  
Ken and Omi burst out laughing.  
  
"At least he'll destroy something other than himself!" Ken roared through his laugther.  
  
"Ha. Ha. Ha," Yoji said as he stood up, but smiled in spite of it as he brushed himself off.  
  
Saturday  
  
Hole 2  
  
"On our second hole, Farfarello for the Schwarz team."  
  
"My gods, Sandra! Is that man dead or alive?"  
  
"He's quite alive, Bob. And sharp as a tack, too. Don't let the pale skin and bandages fool you."  
  
Farfarello stood next to the ball and licked his golf club.  
  
"What's wrong?" Schuldich called from the side.  
  
"It doesn't taste like a knife," Farfarello half-whined over his shoulder. "I can't play with any new toys if they don't even taste like knives. I need- Hey, is that a squirrel? I do so love playing with squirrels!"  
  
"Farfarello! You still have to play the hole!" Crawford shouted after the Irishman. No good. Farfarello had already scrambled off the course, his club brandished.  
  
"And with one less player, team Schwarz moves along to the next hole."  
  
Hole 5  
  
"And Crawford for the Schwarz team steps up to the tee."  
  
"Yes, Bob, this is his second hole and team Schwarz will be well off is he does as well as he's done the first hole he played."  
  
"He takes a moment to think...swings with a beautiful form...and the ball flies!"  
  
"Not bad. It's only about one yard from the hole."  
  
"Crawford takes a putt and lands a splendid eagle. Well done."  
  
"Yes. This American bodyguard knows how to play the game."  
  
Hole 7  
  
"And here comes Yoji, stepping up for team Wei?."  
  
Yoji placed the ball on his tee and stood in position. He took a deep breath and tried to concentrate. But out of the corner of his eye, he caught a certain German smirking at him frim the side lines.  
  
Yoji...Yoji...You're not much of a golfer, are you?  
  
The blond man shook his head and tried to clear his mind.  
  
Hey, Yoji. Hey, Yoji! HEY YOJI, SWING!"   
  
Yoji swung wildly, spraying dirt everywhere. He glared at Schuldich who answered only with an innocnet smile.  
  
Still fuming, Yoji stalked into the woods to contiune playing the hole. Three more chaotic strokes allowed him to land the hole one stroke over par.  
  
"With a relieved sigh, Yoji Kudou and his team continue onward."  
  
Hole 9  
  
"And we're on the ninth hole."  
  
"That's right, Sandra. And up for the Wei? team is Aya Fujimiya."  
  
"Yes, Bob. Ah. There he is. He's placing the ball on the tee and getting into position."  
  
"He's had it rough this match. One can only guess what will happen on this, his third hole. Wait! He's stopped. He's looking up. He's raising his club like a sword! He's charging at us! The look of death in his eyes! Oh! And we are saved by the youngest member of the Wei? team who has blocked the former. Thank you, Omi Tsukiyono."   
  
"And Aya goes back to the ball. He swings. The ball, and a good amount of the course, goes flying!"   
  
"Oh, and right into a sand trap, Sandra. Will he take the stroke or play on?"   
  
"Come on, Aya! Just take the stroke!" Yoji pleaded with the red head.  
  
"No! I'm going to hit it out of there and I'm still going to crush Crawford! Watch me!" Aya growled as he stomped down into the sand trap.  
  
16 stokes later...  
  
"Aya-kun. Please! You're way past the allotted amount of strokes!" Omi begged the Wei? leader.  
  
"No! I'm not leaving until I hit this ball out of this hole!"  
  
"Well....okay," Omi said as he and the rest of the players walked on to the tenth hole.  
  
Hole 12  
  
Nagi surveyed the hole before him. After going through a brief review in his mind, he swung his club and smacked the ball.  
  
Smash! Screech! Crunch! A car on the road that ran along the golf course was hit and skidded into a tree.  
  
"You stupid kid! Why don't you watch what you're doing!" A fuming, middle-aged man got out of the car. He stomped onto the green towards Nagi, screaming various obscenities as the members of Wei? frantically signaled for him to stop.  
  
Half way to the object of his anger, the man found himself being lifted three full feet in the ari and being deposited into the course's nearest lake.  
  
Stunned and panicked, the man beat a frantic path out of the lake, scrambled across the green, and drove what was left of his car away. The players moved on.  
  
Hole 15  
  
Schuldich placed his ball on the tee and got into position. He was not a good golfer. He knew it. Crawford knew it. Everyone who had seen him play that day knew it. Closing his eyes, he took a breath and swung hard. The ball landed with a rustle in some far off bushes. Walking to the ball, he stood half way in the bushes and swung again. Sand trap. Not only was his skill poor, he seemed to be having bad luck. He took a third swing. Water hazard. And so it went for the better part of an hour until he finally landed the ball in the intended hole. With a score of no less than 17. Heaving a relieved sigh, he picked up the ball and continued with his team.  
  
Hole 16  
  
"Ah. Look, Bob. Omi is again up for the Wei? team."  
  
"He's done extraordinarly well this game. Both for his age and compared to his other teammates."  
  
"He draws the club back. Beautiful form! The swing! It's flying!"  
  
"Oh, just feet away form the hole. Close, but no cigar yet."  
  
"He approaches the ball and gets into position again. A light tap...and it's an eagle for Omi!"  
  
"Nice job!"  
  
Hole 18  
  
Omi took a quick count of the score, then turned to the brunet, who was about to tee off.  
  
"All right, Ken. It's close. You can only take three strokes, at most, to win. It's all up to you. No pressure," he added the last part quickly.  
  
"But the hole itself is part four!" Ken's eyes flashed with alarm.  
  
"That's par four and it's been done before. You can do it," Omi reassured the former athlete before stepping off the green.  
  
Ken steadied his club, concentrated hard, and swung. The ball landed on the edge of a forest, seemingly kilometers away from the hole.  
  
"That's okay, Ken. Swing again," Yoji called.  
  
Using the same procedure, ken did as he was told. Much to his misfortune, he swung too low, digging up pieces of the ground. The ball itself went a few feet, but still had many yards to go.  
  
"Come on, Ken!" Omi encouraged.  
  
Ken got into position again.  
  
This is it. Last shot. The guys are counting on me.  
  
The brunet glanced up at the distance between himself and the hole.  
  
That's far away. And judging by my last two swings, Lady Luck isn't on my side. Since when was luck a lady? How do people know it's not a man? Is it possible to see luck? I've been lucky a few times. So how come I haven't seen anyone? Or anything. How do we know luck isn't a thing?  
  
"KEN CONCENTRATE!" Omi had decided to interrupt whatever Ken was thinking when he saw that dazed look in the Siberian's eyes.  
  
Snapped back into reality, Ken held his breath and swung hard. He still hit part of the ground, costing him precious distance on the swing. The ball landed about seven feet away and began to slow down as it rolled.  
  
"It's not going to make it, is it?" Omi asked.  
  
"No. I think that would take a miracle," Yoji answered.  
  
"SHINEI!" A wild roar and a cloud of sand rose up from the area around the twelth hole. A white dot came sailing over the bushes and onto the green, where it hit Ken's ball with enough force to send it further. This time, everyone held their breath as the ball crawled across the green and finally into the hole.  
  
"Ken! You hit a birdie!" Omi cried.  
  
"Aww. That's terrible."  
  
"No. We won!"  
  
"Awesome!" Ken cheered.  
  
"I still can't believe our luck," Omi said on the drive home.  
  
"That was a close one," Yoji agreed.  
  
"And Aya really did beat Crawford and the rest of Schwarz with them. Huh, Aya?" Omi asked over his shoulder.  
  
Aya, exhausted from swinging all day, was asleep in the backseat; a small triumphant smile on his face.  
  
"I hope that bird's okay," Ken sounded worried.  
  
Omi turned nearly all the way around to face the brunet. "Ken. A "birdie" is when you score one under par on a hole. You didn't actually hit a bird."  
  
"Oh. That's good." His conscience cleared, Ken settled down in the backseat to rest for the remainder of the drive.  
  
"That was fun," Farfarello said, sitting in the passenger's seat on the way home; a squirrel caracass in his lap.  
  
Crawford rolled his eyes and shivered slightly. "Does someone have their window open? It seems a bit drafty in here."  
  
"No," Nagi piped up quickly from the backseat.  
  
"Is there something you'd like to tell us, Nagi?" Schuldich posed the question with a mischievous smirk.  
  
"Shut up!" Nagi cried, bringing his fist down on the thigh of the man who sat next to him.  
  
"Oww!" Schuldich howled.  
  
"Knock it off, you two," Crawford's stern voice matched his eyes as he looked at them through the rear view mirror. Those same eyes suddenly became questioning.  
  
"Hey! What happened to my back windshield?!" the American almost shouted as he noticed a large hole in the object in question.  
  
Farfarello pulled a golf ball out from under his thigh.  
  
"So that's what I was sitting on." 


End file.
